Joe visibly swallowed. His expression gave him away—what he was imagining looked very little like pancakes.
“Whipped cream it is,” Krista said, satisfied, plucking the canister from his hands.
He tapped the side of his cup. “Alright. Real question. Did you finish the food series yesterday?”
“I think so.” She absently licked a smear of cream from her thumb. “I want to read through it again and see if anything needs tightening.”
She pointed her fork at him. “Don’t you have responsibilities today, Campground Hero?”
“I do,” Joe said, counting off on his fingers. “Finish inventory. Order supplies for the shop. Then I told Walt I’d cover the office so he can take care of Alice.”
Krista blinked. “Listen to you. You’re practically management.”
Joe shrugged like it was nothing, but there was pride in it. “Walt asked. I said yes.”
For a second, Krista just watched him—this man who’d shown up with a camera and a rental car and somehow folded himself into her world like he’d always belonged there.
“Okay,” she said, reaching for the pancake mix. “I’ll head into town. Maybe the library or the bookshop to polish my article while you handle the campground before your shift at the Hideaway.”
Krista couldn’t imagine that she was going to sit down and write the day away, but she was surprisingly looking forward to it.
“Yes, ma’am,” Joe said, and the words slid over her skin like the strike of a match. “Anything else you want assigned?”
Her imagination, unhelpfully vivid, supplied plaid skirts and detention slips. It was going to be a long stretch until they saw each other again at the Cocktail Club that night.
“No,” she said lightly. “I guess I’ll just grade you tonight.”
Joe turned fully toward her, eyes locking on hers.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
That evening, Krista lingered near the edge of the Hideaway, pretending not to watch Joe finish out his final shift.
He had less than thirty minutes left. Then he’d be off the clock, the Cocktail Club would officially begin, and the swap would slide into its last night. Zach and Liam would likely roll in any minute. Maybe Kit, too. Elsie had promised to stop by for one final swap photo—and to announce the donation total.
Krista tried to focus on that. On the good the money would do.
Alice was home now, stubbornly refusing the rehab facility. She insisted they couldn’t afford it—even though her mobility was still limited and the cabin had become an obstacle course with a walker. The steep porch steps, unforgiving stairs, and the narrow bathroom doorway might as well have been built to keep her out.
Robyn was arriving tomorrow and staying awhile. The trip had been planned for weeks, but the timing couldn’t have been better.
Across the room, Joe wiped down the bar, laughing at something a customer said. He moved easily now—like he belongedbehind that counter, like he had always been part of Maple Falls.
He hadn’t said exactly when he was leaving.
Krista clung to the long-distance plan like it was a life raft. Because if she let herself believe he might be leaving forever—if she pictured the Hideaway without him, the campground without his truck, mornings without his smile?—
She’d fall apart.
“You guys want a drink?” Krista called over to her friends who were lingering at the far end of the bar like they were waiting for a curtain to rise.
“Um, maybe in a minute? I’m not sure what I want,” Madison said.
Krista tilted her head. Madison always knew what she wanted. But she let it go and turned back to take inventory of syrups and ice cream. Supplies were running low. She’d need to restock soon.
“Perfect. You’re both here.” Elsie swept in less than ten minutes later. “We need one final swap shot before the sun goes down. Five minutes, max. The algorithm waits for no one,” Elsie said gravely.
“You heard the boss,” Madison called from the other end of the bar, already stepping in. “Go be famous.”
